Homosexuality
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: In which Sam is oblivious, Dean hates cleaning up after drunk people, and wincest wins. Bartender!Dean with some really adorable Sam. Wincest be here! Dedicated to my first flame, who apparently couldn't read disclaimers. This is for you, honey! Rated T for language. Fluff and non-graphic pre-slash.


Homosexuality

Working as a bartender wasn't the greatest job in the world, but it certainly had its moments.

Dean knew cleaning up the barf and throwing out the drunk patrons wasn't a normal person's first thought when "Fun" came into play, but he found that watching everyone and how their nights played out was almost exciting.

He was aware he had problems.

People abused the bartenders a lot, arguing drunkenly over high prices and getting violent when patrons didn't get their way.

Not Dean's fault, anyway. He was just the barkeeper.

When he said this to people, though, he usually got a drink in the face or (even worse) vomit on his bar.  
Didn't anyone realize he had to clean that up later?

The night shifts were long, too. There were a couple times during his first month on the job when he didn't think he'd be able to keep up with the torrents of requests and the endless hours on his feet, but he made it through.

He'd been a bartender since graduating from college, oddly enough. Never pursuing a job to go with his degree, much to his mother's dismay. But he made enough money to pay for his apartment, and with no significant other in the equation, he was pretty set at staying where he was.

Not that he couldn't get a date if he wanted to.

Girls flirted with him all the time, telling him how handsome his face was and how amazing his eyes looked in the flashing lights. And he got some advances from men too, with the none-too-subtle glances at his ass that went along with it.

He flirted back, cool but still engaged, causing them to buy more drinks and send their friends over to see "That hot bartender in the corner".

But he never flirted back honestly. Call it a sappy romance novel line, but Dean didn't see anyone he wanted to be with in the crowds.

Sure the girls (and the guys) were pretty, and they didn't wear a lot of clothing, but after a while, it all sort of blended together, so when a pushy blonde shoved her boobs in his face, he didn't even blink anymore.  
His mother would be proud, he supposed.

He worked the six to two shift four nights a week, running around mixing drinks and trying to keep everything in order. He liked order, just the thought of the bottles in straight lines and sections where he could find them making his job indefinitely easier. Drunks didn't like to wait, anyway.

After all his years there, he'd figured out how to read people fairly well. Up to a point, actually, where he could guess the drink before they opened their mouths.

He didn't think it was creepy, but supposed some people would. They didn't work at a bar, though.  
It had been a normal Saturday night, and Dean had been on his shift for about an hour.

The crowd on the dance floor began to grow, and the requests for drinks came so fast he could barely think about anything else.

He sort of loved it when it got like this, the eager faces and the energy that seemed to flow through them, making everything just a little more real. The people danced, he served, they flowed.

However, not everyone appeared to be in that mood.

He'd been serving a young brunette a Pina Colada when he noticed the man walk in.

He was tall, all lean muscle, but he seemed to almost shrink into himself, something Dean had learned meant shy, and that meant it was his first time here.

He said good bye to the brunette (Who looked a little sad when he left rather abruptly) and threw the towel over his shoulder, sliding up to the man when he took a seat.

Dean had to look up when he was face to face with the man, who was a LOT taller in person.

Brown, slightly wavy hair came down to his collar, a nice white shirt that set off his dusky, tan skin.  
A pair of slanted green eyes looked at him from under the hair, face handsome with cheekbones that gave Dean a run for his money. His face was young, still soft, but Dean put his age at about 25. Too early to have a midlife crisis. A slight twitch at his mouth signaled he was nervous, though, so Dean tried to be friendly.

"What'll you have?" Dean asked with a slight smile, putting his hands on the bar top.

The man looked at him quickly, startled, and his eyes widened when he saw Dean's face.  
"Uhh. .I'll have a beer." He said in a deep voice, slight country accent making Dean smile inwardly as he tried to remember the last time he'd heard a country accent in New York.

"Sure." Dean said amiably. "On tap fine?"  
The man nodded, drumming his fingers on the bar nervously, putting off tangible waves of anxiety.  
"What are you here for?" He asked the man as he grabbed the beer.

The green eyed man lifted his head up and swallowed once.  
"Ah, waiting for a date. I think." He blushed. "I met him on the internet, actually."

Dean nodded, smiling a little at his blush then turning an eye out to the crowd. "And he's not here yet?"

The man shook his head. "No." He smiled a little, white teeth flashing.

"Actually, this is my first time in a nightclub." He admitted, looking down at his beer embarrassedly as Dean set it in front of him.

"Never?" Dean asked surprised.  
"Nope."  
"Good thing you ordered beer." Dean said, joking a little.

"What?" The man asked innocently. "I don't get it."

Dean stared at him for a second, uncomprehending.

He didn't get it at all?

Oh well. It wasn't that funny, anyway.

The bar was busy, but the other two bartenders started their shifts then, so Dean leaned on his elbows and tried not to laugh at the way the man leaned back from him, embarrassed.

"So, who you waiting for?" He asked after a few seconds, oddly intrigued by the hulking mass of cute embarrassment.

"Uh, a guy I met online. His name is Alex, I think." The man said. Suddenly, he looked up at Dean in fear.

"What if he doesn't show?" He asked quickly, face so scared looking that Dean almost laughed at him.

"Don't worry," He said to the man, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.  
Damn, this kid was cute.

"He'll show. Chill for a second, kay?"

The man nodded, sipping his beer as he watched the door.

Dean was called away after that, busy with drink orders for the rest of the hour. He kept an eye on the kid, though, and got glimpses of what went on for the rest of the night.

The man sat alone for a few hours, hands still tapping out a beat on the bar. After his first beer, he had another, but insisted he wasn't going to drink until his date showed up.

Poor kid. Dean would hate if he was stood up. The guy just seemed too innocent.

About an hour and a half, a man walked up to the bar, sitting next to the man as he signaled Dean over.

Dean watched as the man looked at the kid, face oddly blank. He leaned in so he could hear better, trying to be inconspicuous.

"Hey, are you Sam?" The new man asked bluntly, sitting a few inches below the shaggy haired man.  
Sam (That was his name, Dean guessed) nodded. "Yeah. Are you Alex?"

"Yeah." Suddenly, the new man looked around a little, making sure they weren't overheard.  
"You DTF?" He asked Sam, hand sliding slowly towards him on the bar.

"What?" Sam asked blankly, confused. Dean smacked himself mentally. The kid didn't know what DTF meant?

The guy leaned in a little bit more. "I said, you DTF?" he asked, thinking Sam had simply misheard him.  
"I don't know what that means." Sam said, blushing but looking a little confused, like he thought it was his fault.

The other man got off the barstool without another word, exiting the club quickly, leaving Sam alone on the barstool.

Damn, the kid looked like he was about to cry.

"What was he asking?" Sam asked when Dean walked by again."

Dean gestured with his hands, trying to get him to understand. "You know, he was asking if you wanted to…" He twisted his hands, and watched as realization slowly dawned on Sam's face.

"What? I thought it was something I did!" Sam said angrily. "What a dick!"

Dean agreed. "On behalf of men everywhere, I'd like to apologize. We're not all assholes."  
He looked at Sam, who gave him a watery smile in return.

"Was he your ride home?"

Sam nodded slowly. Dean smacked himself mentally again. Did this kid know anything?  
Dean made a decision. "You want a ride home?"

Sam looked up, surprised. "You'd do that?"

"Sure, not every day a cute guy gets abandoned at my bar."

Sam's eyes went wide as he realized Dean was flirting with him. Hell, it took Dean a couple seconds to catch up too.

"Thanks." Sam said honestly. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Dean smiled a little. "Just make it up to me by keeping me company, okay?"

"Yeah. No problem."

Dean spent most of his time with Sam, who stayed with Dean until the end of his shift. He found out that Sam was from Texas, same as Dean. There was a lot of "Holy crap, no ways" thrown around, and then they moved onto football teams.

"Cowboys." Sam said.

"Ugh. No!" Dean said, dramatically throwing his head in his hands. "Not you too!"

Sam looked surprised, eyes innocently wide. "What? It's not that bad, dude!"

Dean shook his head, but smiled again, and if his cheeks hurt from smiling all night, he didn't say anything.  
The bar closed around three, late for most places, but the time seemed to fly and before he knew it, it was time for them to part.

Dean learned that Sam had just moved here from Texas, and didn't know what a dildo was (Seriously, this wasn't the fifties!) when Dean told him the punch line to a joke between drink orders.  
Sam had a dog, a collie named Evan, which was a silly name (But Dean didn't say anything, cause he's nice) and he loved hiking.

By the time Dean got them both to the car around three thirty, Sam was a little tipsy and kept hanging on Dean's arm a little. Not like Dean minded.

Sam gave him directions to his house as he leaned back in Dean's front seat of the Impala after freaking out about what an awesome car it was. Dean agreed.

By the time they got to Sam's house, a small one floor thing he was renting a couple miles away, Dean was almost melancholy. He found he actually didn't want this night to end.

Sam sat up and looked between the house and Dean, something almost like puppy eyes making Dean even more sad.

"Uh.." Sam said nervously, making Dean look at him, worried. Why was the kid nervous?

"Youwannacomein?" The kid asked quickly, slurring the words together.

"What?" Dean asked.  
Sam blushed, face as red as a tomato. "Do you wanna come in?" he asked, face mortified.

Dean thought about it.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

A/N Yay! Wincest wins again! Drop me a review if you liked it! Thanks J


End file.
